Stick to Porn
by amorae
Summary: Poor, poor Puck. He just can't seem to get a good lay nowadays. Six short minifics about Puck's adventures in trying to get laid by the members of the Glee club. Rated T for language and the nature of the fic.


**Okay it has been a long time since I've posted on here so I don't quite know how to work the doc system, especially since they've taken any ounce of creativity out of how a person may format their writing...but what ever. This is the best I could do, so sorry for the weird break lines in between each different story, i just couldn't figure out any other way to separate them.**

**But, without further ado, here is the piece. Enough of my whining. Everything is (c) the makers of Glee, except for the plot.**

* * *

Puck often wondered if he would find the right girl. The girl that would give him sex when ever he wanted, make him sandwiches on the drop of a hat, and walk around in bikinis just to make him happy. He had doubts that such a girl actually existed – but he kept his hopes up, despite what friends told him.

Somehow, he just couldn't imagine that such a girl could exist in Lima, Ohio.

But he tried: mostly by just having sex with every girl he could. He tried so hard that he thought he might pass out from exhaustion. As the search dragged on, he became increasingly more and more desperate, until he snapped.

* * *

"No! Stop, Puck! I told you already. I'm on my period."

Santana pushed Puck away and sat up. There was a thin line of lipstick smeared right above her upper lip. Puck was gripped with a sudden, overwhelming urge to lick it off, but refrained for fear that Santana would hurt him. Her hair was slightly askew, and he watched as she absent-mindedly fixed it. Damn Cheerios! and their constant need to be perfect.

He placed a hand against her collarbone and placed his face into the crook of her neck. His words came out muffled and mumbled as he said "and I told _you _that I don't care."

He worked his tongue over her collarbone, biting gently, trying to hit that spot he knew existed. He felt her shoulders go slack before they suddenly grew resolute. "Puck, _no_. Look, I get nothing out of this if you and I do the naughty while I'm on my period. Besides, it'll hurt, and do you want a bloody dick?"

Well, when she put it that way…

"I still don't believe you," he muttered. "Girls tell me this all the time."

"Do you want to go down there and check for yourself!" Santana practically shrieked, sitting up straighter. She nudged Puck out of his earlier position. He fell backwards lightly, sitting up straighter himself, to look Santana in the eye. "I'm not kidding, Puckerman. _Noah_. If you don't respect my wishes, I won't even let you have a raincheck."

Puck sighed, closing his eyes and rolling his neck. He cracked open one eye and looked at Santana: damn, she was hot when she looked the tiniest bit imperfect. Her uniform was slightly rumpled, running up her stomach. One of the sleeves was pushed down a tiny bit and he could swear he could see her bra strap. (Not that bra straps particularly excited him – that was more on par with Finn's experience. But an occasional nip slip never hurt anyone and certainly didn't do any damage to Puck's eyes, that was for sure.)

He had one last card up his sleeve. He smiled, looking down at Santana appealingly. "Will you at least give me a blow job?"

"Get the hell out!" Santana shouted, standing up. She pushed Puck off of her bed. He stumbled, nearly falling to the ground before managing to straighten himself up. "Get out, get out, get out!" berated Puck's ears as he grabbed his shoes, wrenched open her door, and got the hell out of dodge.

* * *

Puck may not have had book smarts, but he certainly had street smarts. He had experimented with a few drugs – nothing serious, of course, but enough to help him relax on a particularly stressful day. He had also run his pool cleaning business nicely, until things started going downhill. That was, mostly, the end of his MILF-days. But he tried not to let it get him down, and he always tried to remind himself that although he was a mediocre student, he wasn't stupid.

This was the main reason he sat on a couch in Brittany's house with his hands pressed against her back and his lips against hers.

Brittany's talents were mostly associated with her mouth. She was a fantastic kisser, gave an _amazing _blowjob that would leave stars in the receivers eyes for _days_, and she occasionally said something so stupid that everyone laughed. Puck liked to think of himself as having many more talents than this – one of which included kissing. He enjoyed kissing Brittany, mostly because she was so talented with her mouth.

But Puck had learned his lesson. If he was going to go past oral with any girl, he was going to use protection. He didn't so much care about STI's, but he did care about babies. It was bad enough that Quinn was pregnant, but it would be even worse if Brittany got knocked up. ("I mean, can you _imagine_?" thought Puck. "Someone with an IQ like Brittany's, _breeding_?")

Puck's hands slowly edged their way to the hem of her uniform tee shirt. He pulled it over her head, working efficiently and quickly. When the shirt was off and discarded, he reached over to unhook her bra. He had never had problems in the "taking a bra off" department, unlike most guys, and he generally enjoyed how girls reacted when he easily took it off. But mostly, he enjoyed the sight of their boobs _plopping _out of the bra as he took it off.

His shirt was already off. He tilted to the side to reach into his pocket, pulling out a condom. He held it up and pulled away from Brittany to show her how responsible he had become. "Look what I have, Brittany. A condom. So we can be protected, or what ever."

"What's a condom?" Brittany asked, tilting her head to the side.

Puck did not know how to react for a moment. He stared at her and saw genuine confusion and ignorance in her eyes. He opened his mouth, about to explain, but shut it again.

"Never mind," he muttered, diving back to kiss her, slowly working his way down her chin and to her chest.

* * *

They smashed against one of the bakers racks filled with towels. Terri Schuster lifted a leg, pushing against Puck's stomach. Her hands were clawing at his neck, feverish and almost painful. Ms. Shue wasn't exactly a MILF, but she _was _older, and attractive, and experienced. Which was enough for Puck.

"We need to be finished before my break is up!" Ms. Shue breathed against Puck's mouth. "We need to make this quick and clean and _efficient_."

Puck found it remarkable; the amount of "_I don't give a flying fuck_" that he was feeling as Terri talked. Mostly, he just wanted to make out, maybe pork if he had the chance – if not, at least roll one out before going on duty – and be done with it. He did not want to listen to Terri talk and talk and _talk_.

But she didn't shut up. "I need this job to keep up my lifestyle and to maintain this healthy, youthful glow. You understand, don't you, Puck?"

He grimaced: "yeah, yeah; sure, sure," he mumbled. "Let's just stop talking and start doing something, yeah?"

Terri swooped in to kiss him, teasing him, reminding him just why he preferred older and more experienced women over the jokes he slept with at school. Puck could feel the tightness in his pants, the need to do something about it. Yeah, he was definitely turned on.

"I was thinking," Terri began, and Puck could have groaned with frustration. "Well, you get around, right? Don't you? Of course you do." She pinched one of his cheeks. "With such a young stud like you, I'd be surprised if you hadn't slept with every girl in your high school!" Puck felt moderately flattered for a moment, until Terri dropped the bombshell.

"And, well, I'm just an old, divorced woman looking for a thrill…," she said with a sigh, looking at Puck with her big blue eyes. "And I don't get around all that much. Well, seeing as we only have ten minutes and I don't want to rush you, do you think you could get me off and you could help yourself later?"

Puck was taken aback and surprised. She did not – she could not – did she actually…? She actually suggested that Noah Puckerman, the school manwhore, take the backseat and get her off instead of getting himself off? No; Puck didn't work like that.

She grinned a toothy smile. "I'm old and desperate!" she pleaded.

Suddenly, Puck didn't care anymore. He felt his erection die with shock, contempt, and dignity. He pushed Terri away and ignored the look of embarrassment and surprise on her face.

"Sorry, Ms. Shue, but I don't work like that," Puck said as he walked away.

She toppled behind him, barely able to walk on her high heels. "Where are you going?" she called after him, obviously dismayed.

"I'm going to clock in," he called back, smirking the tiniest bit.

"But you don't work for another 30 minutes, Puck!"

"Well, Ms. Shue," he said, turning around and shrugging. "I guess I just want to work extra hard today."

* * *

"Uh, if you don't mind, could we, uh, put on something a tiny bit more romantic?"

Puck fought the urge to scream. He bit his lip, however, and looked at Rachel in the kindest way he could possibly muster. "What are you thinking of, _sweetie_?"

"Well!" Rachel grinned. "I brought my _Moulin Rouge! _soundtrack, and I was thinking that we could listen to the more romantic songs on it, like "All You Need is Love" or "Come What May." The songs are so romantic, Puck! They really express how I feel about you."

Puck cringed. "I don't want to listen to some dorky showtunes from the classic musical made specifically for single, lonely women to watch while they eat tubs of nutella and cry."

Rachel made a noise of indignation and sat up, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "_Moulin Rouge! _is one of the best musicals gone straight to movie theatres in the past _decade_! It is not made just for, uhm, what you described. It's a tale for all the ages, a story of love that knows no end!"

He sighed, propping himself up against his headboard. He looked around his room. Trash littered the floor everywhere. Rachel had kindly pointed out that his room looked exactly like the trash dump her dads had taken her to show her where homeless people lived so that she may be filled with a burning desire to help those in need. He had his iTunes on, over on his computer in the corner of his room. He had it on shuffle. Bands like _the Devil Wears Prada _and _Alesana _were playing.

"Why aren't these romantic enough, _baby_?" Puck asked. He tried to put emphasis on the names to soften Rachel up a bit. He knew she liked pet names and she liked being treated as if she were special.

She shook her head, looking sadly down at him – as if he knew nothing. "Oh, Puck! You know nothing about romanticism, do you?" Her voice sounded so dismayed as she said this, her lips pouting. Puck could think of a million different things those lips could be doing _right then_ and none of them involved talking (or singing, for that matter).

Puck shrugged a tiny bit. "I'm not one for long term relationships. I like the style of 'have sex with them and leave them by day' a lot more than 'have a long standing relationship with one person.'"

It was as if Puck had slapped Rachel with the ungodly hand of anti-romanticism. "Oh, Puck!" she exclaimed again. "Come, stand up and help me clear some of this garbage away. You really are as needy as the homeless man I helped that day at the trash dump. Here, let's put on the CD and I can sing it to you! Then you'll understand what's so magical about romance!"

At that moment, Puck wanted nothing more than to sink beneath his own little island of trash and stay beneath there for a long, long time.

* * *

"Uhm, don't tell Artie…okay? I think that this would devastate him. It's just, uh, oh, I don't know."

Puck gently kissed Tina, slowly working his way into a harder, rougher kiss. She was the last female member of the Glee club that he hadn't tried to get with. He felt that it would be a personal victory when he finally had sex with her. She was just the right amount of desperate to agree to it relatively easily, without too much hassle. He had his trusty pack of Trojan XXL Condoms in his pocket and was ready to whip them out when she was ready to put out.

Tina kissed him back for a few moments, starting to get really into it, before she pulled away. Puck sighed and looked up at her ceiling. Damn it! She was being such a buzz kill. "I really don't want Artie to hear about this, okay? I'm only doing this because…." Her voice trailed off.

"Because Artie hasn't been able to _satisfy _you?" Puck smirked, diving in to kiss Tina again.

"No!" Tina said sharply, pressing a hand against his chest to keep him away. "No, I'm only doing it because you asked and I was, well. I was curious."

Puck sneered. "I'll make sure your little cripple boyfriend doesn't ever find out…although you might break up with him when you know what it's like to be with a real man!"

A second later, he registered the shock and slight ache in his cheek. Tina had smacked him. "How dare you say that about Artie! He's your teammate! You guys sing together. You should have more respect for him. Just because he's bound to a, to a wheelchair doesn't mean he's any less of a man than you are."

Puck glowered at Tina. "Well," he said angrily, "obviously he is, or else you wouldn't be here, ready to sleep with me!"

"Who said anything about _sleeping with_!" Tina was shouting now. She looked furious. "No, Puck. I invited you over to make out and _maybe _practice for regionals, but not to have sex. Who the fuck do you think you are?"

He was getting furious now – if for nothing else, but because he had now successfully failed at getting _five _girls in bed – _in a row_. This was not good for his reputation, or for his mental well being. He felt sick.

He had been expecting it when Tina pushed him off her bed and forced him to the door. "Just so you know," she practically snarled, "Artie will _always _be more of a man than you are. At least he has a heart!"

The door was slammed in his face.

* * *

He could not believe he was doing this.

He was confronted with a big, bury guy at first. He looked to be an ex football player. Puck squared his shoulders and said, "I'm here to practice for the Glee Club."

The big guy looked him straight in the face, seeing right through his flimsy lie. "Go downstairs," he said, still staring suspiciously at Puck. Puck eased past him, heading to the door that lead to the downstairs stairwell, which lead into the basement.

The decent into the basement was like a death march for him. He could not believe he was honestly resulting to this. But he knew that he would at least get results this way. He knew that, no matter how painful it was, he would get laid – one way or another. He flinched as the room came into view and he was none other than Kurt, standing with two glasses filled with a caramel-colored liquid, looking relatively sharp but still gay as hell in his tuxedo suit.

"Come in!" he exclaimed, all smiles. Puck pushed his hands deep into his pockets and shuffled down the last few steps.

Finn had not been lying. The room really _was _the epitome of fag. It was a weird, brownish color – the color that old, post-modern ladies with big curly hairdos would style their house up in. He wondered why Kurt had picked the color for Finn – it really didn't match either of their personalities in any way.

When Puck approached Kurt, Kurt practically forced the glass of sparkling whatever into his hands. "It's sparkling apple cider!" Kurt exclaimed happily.

"Okay," was all Puck could muster.

Kurt walked over to the couch and sat daintily down on it, crossing one leg over another and placing his glass on his knee. "You know, Puck," he said, almost slowly. "I'm surprised you asked me to do this. I never would have pinned you as even bicurious. I thought you were a pretty much straight up womanizing jock." Kurt tilted his head to the side. "Won't this damage your nearly flawless reputation as the bad boy?"

"It won't if you don't tell anyone," Puck grumbled. Kurt laughed.

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Good." There was an uneasy, awkward silence in the air. "Just so you know, I'm not bicurious. I'm just desperate." Puck's words were final and picked carefully, so as to erase any chance of Kurt _ever _thinking this would happen again.

"Mmm," Kurt murmured. "I had a feeling that was the case! Well. Just so you know, I am, uh, inexperienced as well. I mean, I made out with Brittany during a time of an entirely dramatic and uncalled for self identity crisis, but that is the extent to how far I have gone.

"So we can both learn together!"

Kurt placed his drink on the table (on a coaster) and began to move forward towards Puck. Puck looked edgily at Kurt, trying to gauge how serious Kurt was about doing this. The expression on Kurt's face was resolute and almost excited. He kept crawling towards Puck, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, ready to kiss.

It wasn't a second later that Puck sprang up, nearly knocking over their glasses of sparkling apple cider. "I can't do this, what the hell was I thinking? Dude, you're a freak and I'm not and I need to get out of here."

Puck practically flew up the steps while he heard Kurt's raucous laughter from the basement. "I knew you couldn't go through with it!" Kurt laughed. Puck's face burned red with shame and disbelief as he ran past Kurt's bewildered dad.

"I should have just stuck to porn," Puck thought to himself miserably as he ran down the street.


End file.
